The Best Things Happen While You're Dancing
by roane
Summary: Someone on Naboo has information about the Empire's long-term strategy and will only give it to Princess Leia. To get it, she'll have to attend an Imperial ball, and she can't go alone. There's only one man in the Alliance she trusts to pose as her husband-and it is strictly a matter of trust. Her feelings have nothing to do with it at all. (Luke/Leia, unrepentant fluff & tropes)
1. Chapter 1

"Why aren't you taking someone with you who already knows all this stuff?" Luke says it before he can think better of it, hating the petulant tone in his voice.

Leia doesn't seem fazed by it and just grins at him. "Because in case you hadn't noticed, born aristocrats are a little thin on the ground around here. And most of them can't fight worth a damn. Plus, given a choice, if I'm going to be stuck with someone for a week, I want it at least to be someone I _like_."

Just like that, the notion of dancing lessons gets a lot more bearable. "All right, but don't blame me if I step on your feet."

"That's why we practice, to get the foot-stepping part out of the way now. Come on." Leia takes his hand—he will never get used to the easy way she touches him, as if it doesn't tear at his heart every time—and starts pulling him down the corridor.

"What, right now?"

"The ball on Naboo is in six days. We leave in three. So yeah, now!" Of all the places to try and infiltrate, an Imperial ball on the Emperor's home planet seems like the most foolhardy thing they could do.

Given a choice, he'd rather be somewhere with a bunch of stormtroopers shooting at him. But it's _Leia_ , and there's nothing he wouldn't do for her. She finds one of the empty training rooms on the base and produces a digiplayer from her pocket. "I'm not going to try and teach you anything fancy," she promises. "Have you ever danced before? Tell me the truth."

Luke wrinkles his nose. Dancing brings back too many memories of standing around at parties on Tatooine trying not to look like a complete idiot in front of his latest crush. He'd been a terrible dancer then, and he's sure he hasn't improved with age. "Not really. Aunt Beru tried to teach me some of the old Outer Rim dances she knew, but most of them needed a room full of people."

"Right, well, it just so happens that rustic Outer Rim dances are all the rage right now in the Empire, so we might be in luck."

"Rustic. Thanks a lot." He stops himself short of sticking his tongue out at her.

"You know what I mean," Leia looks uncharacteristically flustered. "Come here. Take my hand." She lifts her right hand, and puts his left hand on her waist. "This is a three-step dance popular on Devaron. It's probably the simplest, so we'll start here."

She's not the only one who's flustered. They hug easily, regularly. She's kissed him more than once—although he's never dared to kiss her—but this is different. As they stand and wait for the music to begin, he's acutely conscious of the pressure of her hand in his, the feel of her waist. He's trying to look everywhere but in her eyes, until she laughs.

"You know, it's customary to look at one's dance partner."

"Shouldn't I watch my feet?" he says, but lifts his eyes, and just as he feared, he's caught by her warm brown gaze and the bottom drops out of his stomach.

"By the time I'm done with you, you'll forget all about your feet." Her eyes twinkle at him, and if he didn't know better he'd think she's flirting with him.

"What feet?" he murmurs, blinking.

"Better." The music starts, and she instructs him through the first steps.

To his surprise, dancing isn't much different from the footwork he's been practicing with his lightsaber. It's all patterns and forms and steps that follow a set rhythm. After a few hours, he can keep up with her on a small handful of dances, and he's only stepped on her feet once or twice.

The last dance proves to be the hardest, and it's not because of the footwork. It's a dance that supposedly originated on Ryloth, and unlike the others, it's not done with a group of couples, but just one, and Leia says it's already caused a scandal on Naboo more than once.

"That's exactly why it will show up at the ball," she insists. "They'll want people to talk."

The starting position alone makes the blood rush to Luke's cheeks. Leia drapes around him like a clinging vine, one heel hooked behind his knee and her head thrown back. All he can see is the long white line of her neck, exposed. Their bodies are pressed tight together from the belly on down and if the music doesn't start soon, this is going to get embarrassing for both of them. As it is, she must be able to feel his racing heart.

They walk through it, step by agonizing step and the music finally ends with him bent over her as she leans back again, her hands holding his head and his face buried against her neck. Both of them are breathing hard and he doesn't think it's because the dance was strenuous. Carefully, he brings her back upright. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes bright. A few loose strands of hair spill around her face and he aches to brush them back.

"That was…" Leia slowly blinks and he has a glimpse of the tip of her tongue swiping her bottom lip, "...not bad at all." Her eyes seem to get caught on his mouth for just a second too long before she meets his eyes. "You're a natural."

"I have a good teacher." He can barely breathe, acutely aware that they're still holding each other, their faces just inches apart. For the first time he can admit to himself how much he _wants_. He wants things he can only half-imagine, things he's sure would earn him a death sentence on some worlds, but he also just wants this moment, right here, to never end, for Leia to keep looking him with her eyes so wide and dark and her lips just slightly parted.

"Luke, I—" Her voice is throaty in a way he's only heard in his dreams. She blinks and her eyes clear a tiny bit. "How are your feet?"

"What feet?" he repeats and has just about convinced himself to lean in and kiss her when she steps back abruptly.

"If—If we're leaving in three days, I should finish the arrangements. We'll both need clothes for the ball and I need to make sure we've got the identification we'll need, and… yes." The normally graceful princess nearly trips over her own feet trying to get to the door. "I'll find you later."

And then she's gone, and Luke is cursing himself for ten kinds of idiot. He pushed too hard, and now the entire trip is going to be awkward.

#

 _Get a hold of yourself_. Leia starts scolding herself the moment she leaves Luke behind. Trying to teach him how to dance was risky, she knew that, but she did it anyway. And what in the name of all the stars possessed her to try and teach him the Twi'lek vine dance, knowing full well they would probably never need it but—no, she knows why she did it.

The problem with being a princess is that everyone expects you to know what you're doing, to be in control at all times, to keep your people in the center of your thoughts. There's a war going on, and she needs to keep herself focused. She knows that.

She _is_ a princess, the last princess of Alderaan, and she knows her duty, but she's also a young woman of twenty and Luke's the hero of the Rebellion right now. Even if he didn't have the sweetest smile she's ever seen and eyes that remind her of the lake outside her parents' palace, he'd still be hard to resist. Even if he didn't look at her like she outshone the binary stars of his home world, she'd be drawn to him. But he does, and even though Leia knows her life allows for no frivolity right now, she wants.

So she asks for him as her companion on this mission, and teaches him a dance he'll never need to know so that just for a few stolen minutes she can feel his arms around her and his body against hers, reveling in the current that arcs between them. It's a dangerous line, and she's taking a chance that one or both of them will get burned. But when she thinks of the way he looks at her mouth, she can't help but think it might just be worth it.

The next three days are swallowed by last minute preparations. It will take them a day and a half to get to Naboo, where she and Luke will be posing as two Corellians, a new-money shipbuilder and his more refined bride. The original plan called for two nobles, but there's a limit to how much refinement she can teach in such a short time.

According to their contact, someone in the palace on Naboo has information on the Empire's long-term strategy, and the ball is a perfect place to mingle unseen. She and Luke spend long hours memorizing the floor plan of the palace and coaching on etiquette. They dance again, but this time, Artoo and Threepio are in the room to watch. It doesn't help. The tension is still there, just less overt. Pushing it underground only increases the pressure.

Departure day arrives and Leia tries to swallow her last-minute nerves along with her breakfast. The borrowed star yacht _Corellian Dawn_ waits for them in the hangar. Everything is loaded on board. Real new-money Corellians would have a staff on board—a captain, servants, the works—but there's a limit to the Alliance's resources, and undercover gets harder the more people are involved, so it's just the two of them. When she arrives, Luke is already there, circling the ship and examining it.

Leia's gotten so used to seeing him in what passes for an Alliance uniform or in his flight suit, she's forgotten what he looks like in civilian clothes. He's dressed like a Corellian all right, albeit upgraded a few levels above Han. Leia tries not to think about _him_ much either, wherever he is now, off trying to get out of trouble with gangsters and governments alike. Still, the similarity is there: brown pants that are just a hair too snug to be from any other world, an open throated shirt of a soft white linen, and—because she couldn't convince him to give it up—the yellow jacket he'd had to borrow on Yavin (later a gift from the original owner).

She'd made Wedge work with Luke on his body language, so he moves around the _Dawn_ with the appropriate swagger of a spacer made good. Still when he sees her, the smile is all him. "Isn't she great?" He looks up at the _Dawn_ with admiring eyes. "She's supposed to be fast. I guess we'll find out."

"She's beautiful," Leia agrees, disconcerted to find herself envious of a ship. "Are we ready to go?"

"One last check. You can get on board, if you want."

The interior is comfortable but not luxurious. There's more than enough room for two passengers, and Leia picks out a cabin on the starboard side for her own. She is resolutely not thinking about the next thirty-six hours of the two of them alone in hyperspace. They have to focus. This mission is critical, and they can't go in there distracted.

She hears him board a few minutes later, and makes her way to the cockpit, strapping herself into the navigator's seat. Luke is radiating nervous, excited energy. She's hoping some of it will have worn off by the time they get to Naboo, or he's not going to fool anybody.

They get flight clearance, then he fires the _Dawn's_ thrusters, and they're off.

#

The _Corellian Dawn_ isn't anything like a fighter ship, that's for sure, but it's not as bulky as some of the freighters Luke has flown for the Alliance either. Her flight is smooth and assured, even under his somewhat inexperienced hands, and she makes the jump to hyperspace with barely a jostle.

"Nothing to do now but wait," Luke says, pushing back from the controls.

"All right." Leia gives him a shrewd look. "Tell me again, when did we meet?"

"Huh? Oh!" Their cover story. He gives her what he hopes is an approximation of a roguish grin. "Well, your father Miru is one of my best customers. Eventually he brought me around his mouse and there you were, the prettiest girl on Corellia. Took me a year to get you to look back at me."

Leia sniffs and lifts her chin. "You had grease under your nails the first time we met."

"I just needed someone to civilize me, that's all." They've run through dozens of scenarios and have gotten comfortable being Gar Dengar and his wife Kalifa, but before it's always been with an audience. It feels uncomfortably real now, with just the two of them. There's a whole other life inside his head, one he has to pretend is his.

"Good." Leia drops character. "You've really gotten the hang of this."

It's on the tip of his tongue to tell her how easy it is to pretend to be in love with her, but he holds it back just in time. Instead he says, "Are you sure they're not going to think we're too young?"

Leia shakes her head. "Some noble houses marry even younger. And on Naboo, they won't even blink. The queen right now is only thirteen."

"I still can't get over that. When _I_ was thirteen…" he breaks off and gives an exaggerated shudder.

"Let me guess, you were running wild through the desert shooting—what did you call them? Womp rats?"

"Well, I don't know about running _wild_ , Uncle Owen kept me too busy for that. We had a tough couple of years right around then." He shrugs off remembered hardship. "But I was scrawnier than I am now and didn't have _any_ common sense at all."

"You're not scrawny!" Leia laughs.

"No one's ever going to mistake me for a Wookiee."

"You're wiry." She's still laughing though, just not _at_ him. "Besides, it's nice to have someone around I can talk to without craning my neck."

"So what about you?" Luke teases. "What were you like at thirteen? Running committees, I suppose."

"No, sitting through ceremonies and trying to dodge my aunts." Leia smiles, but her eyes are sad and too late, he remembers how much she's lost.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"No, it's all right." She reaches across the space between them and squeezes his hand. "We've both come through a lot since then."

He turns his hand over and twines their fingers together. "Yeah. I guess we have." They sit hand in hand for a comfortable few minutes. "Leia?"

"Hm?" She looks over.

"Why me? Seriously. There must be people trained in this sort of thing who could do it better than me. I'm not a spy. I'm a terrible liar."

Leia doesn't squirm exactly. "I trust you. Some people—some _men_ —would try to take advantage of a situation like this. Or act like it gives them some sort of hold over me. I know you won't."

His mind gives a guilty little start, all too aware of the thoughts he's been having the past few days. No matter the thoughts, and no matter if he thinks she's flirting, she's just drawn a line and he wouldn't cross it for anything.

And yet, there's more that she's not saying. Luke can't say how he knows, it's a tingle in the back of his mind.

"I know that until the mission is over, we'll both be able to stay focused," Leia finishes, and squeezes his hand.

"Of course." And that's the end of it.


	2. Chapter 2

When they arrive on Naboo, Leia emerges from her cabin transformed. Luke's identity is still a mystery to the Empire, but Leia Organa's is not. Her dark brown hair is now a deep red and whatever she's done with her makeup changes the shape of her face. Luke isn't sure he wouldn't have recognized her except he would know those eyes anywhere. Also, he thinks he might like redheads now.

They disembark arm in arm, and Luke can't stop stealing glances at her. The capital city of Theed is beautiful, of course, and he's trying to pay attention to their surroundings, but… hopefully he just looks like a doting husband. They're staying in rooms near the palace, and Luke's eyes threaten to bug out when Leia pays the porter in the landing bay to carry their things to those rooms.

It's hours until dark, and they're not meeting their contact until then, so they stroll like tourists, pretending to be the young married couple on their identification. Practice, Luke tells himself, it's just practice. It's so easy to fall into—they've known each other for so long now that they already have inside jokes and shortcuts in their speech. All that's changed is that she touches him more easily, and he can walk with his arm around her without feeling awkward. She laughs more than usual, as if delighted by everything, including him.

They stop at a vendor's cart and buy what Leia says is fruit juice frozen onto a stick. Anything frozen is still an utter novelty to him, just a year out of the desert, and they sit under a tree to eat.

"Careful, when it starts to melt it'll get everywhere," Leia grins at him, and he gets a glimpse of what she must have looked like as child, fruit juice and the cold reddening her mouth. Then he watches her chase melting droplets of juice with her tongue and it's anything but childlike. He has to look away, his head spinning.

Luke manages to eat most of it before it melts and slips off the stick, landing on the stones at his feet. Tiny insects appear immediately and start to claim their prize.

"Oh no, your _face_ ," Leia starts to giggle, and she _never_ giggles. "You look so sad. Here, have the rest of mine." She hands it over, and there must be something wrong with him. All he can think is that he's putting his mouth where hers just was. The insects don't get the rest of that one.

They wash their sticky hands and mouths in a fountain and continue on.

There's a statue in a large green park of some sort of aquatic animal frolicking. Every few minutes, a couple pauses in front of it and kisses. Leia stops one of the street vendors to ask what the significance is.

The old woman looks them up and down and laughs. "That's the lucky glow fish! A kiss by the fish guarantees good luck." She gives them a push toward the statue. "Go on. You look like you could use a bit of luck."

Luke and Leia exchange looks and Leia shrugs with a smile. Then she takes his hand and leads him over to the spot in front of the statue where all the other couples have stood. "For luck," she teases, only this time they're not being shot at, and goes up on her tiptoes.

He realizes, too late, that for all the affection they've shared, this is the first time she's kissed him on the mouth. By then her arms are around his neck and his arms are around her waist and they've blown completely past any pretense of friendly affection. Her mouth is soft and warm and sweet from the fruit juice, just open enough that he can feel her breathing. Her fingers curl in the hair spilling at the nape of his neck before they both remember that they're standing in a public square, and they part, sheepishly.

The vendor laughs, waving a holocube at them. "I can always spot the newlyweds, so I can. For ten credits you can take the memory of that home with you."

Luke starts to protest, but Leia hands the money over and takes the holocube, beaming at the street vendor before pulling Luke away. "L—Kalifa…"

"Do you really want that falling into someone else's hands by mistake?" She tucks it into her bag and he tries to ignore that her face is as pink as his must be.

"I'm not sure what would be worse, the Empire, or Red Squadron," he mutters under his breath.

"Red Squadron," she says. "The Empire could only kill you."

As the day fades, they find their way to a large stone building that looks to be some sort of temple or memorial. Windows of colorful glass run the length of one wall, the setting sun shining through them as they depict the women of Naboo's history. Luke and Leia walk the length of the passage, looking at one queen after another. They're all so young, but one sticks out and they stand, hand in hand, looking up at her portrait made of glass.

She's shown only in profile, draped in a rich red robe with her dark hair arranged elaborately. Like all of the queens, her delicate face is covered in white makeup. Neither of them can explain why they stand so long looking at her.

"She seems so sad," Luke comments. "None of the others do." The queen's face is hardly showing, so how he can say she looks sad he doesn't know, but she does.

"There's our contact," Leia murmurs, and they reluctantly draw away from the portrait. A brown-skinned man in black waits by an image of the very first Queen of Naboo, with his right cuff turned up once—the signal.

Passphrases exchanged, he says, "Thank you for coming, both of you. The ball will be heavily attended by the Emperor's family, so you will need to use caution. After the third Devronian waltz, exit the ballroom on the right-hand side and follow the third hallway to the left. There may be palace guards. I will do my best to distract them, but be cautious. Go to the end of the the hallway, take the door on your left. Your contact will meet you with the information there."

"Thank you," Leia says, and they shake hands.

"Be careful. I know you took a great risk coming here in person."

"If what you say is true, it will be worth the risk."

"Don't forget, the third waltz," the man says, then leaves them.

"Well. Now what?" Luke has stayed quiet until now, considering the entire exercise a lesson in espionage.

"Now we go get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a long day." Leia takes his arm and they leave the temple.

#

It's nearly dark outside, and the streets are lined with softly glowing lamps. The night air is warm, and so the streets are still crowded with tourists, with locals enjoying the evening. It's a pleasant walk, and Leia feels an unaccustomed sense of peace. The last time she felt this way was… well, it was the last time she was home.

Alderaan and Naboo have a few things in common, so her nostalgia shouldn't come as a surprise. Still, a faint, bittersweet melancholy overtakes her as she and Luke walk to their rented rooms, and she leans her head against his shoulder. Sensing her mood as he always does, he slips his arm around her shoulders, not saying anything. The leather of his jacket is soft against her cheek and she allows herself a few stolen moments, letting a sense of well-being wash away the melancholy.

The inn is nearly palatial itself, and Leia hopes that bodes well for the comfort of their rooms. There is supposed to be a suite waiting for them, in keeping with the status of their undercover identities and also to spare them any awkwardness.

At least, that was the plan. The 'droid in charge of registration is obsequious and polite and also very direct. "The only room we had available for you was a single one, I'm afraid. With the ball tomorrow, you understand."

"Of course we understand," Leia says, wearing her best princess smile. "But my husband and I are already registered. Our things were delivered earlier today."

"Yes, indeed, we have you here, Gar and Kalifa Dengar of Corellia. I would be happy to have one of the other 'droids show you to your room. I'm terribly sorry for any inconvenience."

Leia is about to let the 'droid have it, then decides that making a scene is probably not in their best interests. She sniffs and takes Luke's arm, and they follow one of the 'droids to their room—singular.

It's a lovely room, Leia has to admit, with a sweeping view over Theed and soft, warm-colored furniture. There is also, to no surprise, just one bed. It's spacious and looks luxurious, but there's only one. Her eyes keep going back to it as the 'droid shows them the features of the room and hands them the keycard before leaving. The only other vaguely flat surfaces are a pair of chairs, and the floor is covered in shining tile.

"Not what we were expecting, huh?" Luke says, and where she can't stop looking at the bed, he's looking everywhere but.

"We'll manage." Her stomach rumbles; it's been hours since the ices. "We should find something to eat."

They don't bother to leave the inn, but both of them seem happy to get away from the room for a time. The food at the inn is decent, Leia is sure, but she barely tastes any of it. She's torn between suggesting some sort of outing that will keep them out until it's time to sleep and going back to the room so they can… what? Sit in awkward silence?

She can't face trying to wander around Theed again. She's tired, and tomorrow is going to be a long, difficult day. So after dinner they go back to the room and unpack the few things they brought.

It's still too early to sleep. They sit across from one another in the matching chairs and she drills him on etiquette for an hour or so, mostly to reassure herself that he'll pass. Finally she asks, "Is there anything you're still feeling nervous about?"

Luke chews on his lower lip before replying. "The dancing," he finally admits. And it makes sense—that's what they've spent the least amount of time on.

"All right." Leia stands up and starts pushing furniture out of the way. "We've got time." She's being practical, she tells herself. Just practical.

She starts the music and they move through the easier dances. He's better than he thinks he is. It feels more natural now to be in his arms, and he's stopped looking at his feet in favor of focusing on her. Maybe, just maybe… the request for practice was an excuse? She steps on that train of thought before it can get too far.

The music stops and she can risk a smile at him. "See, you'll do fine. Just remember those and—"

"We forgot one," Luke says.

 _Forgot_ is not precisely the right word. Teaching him the vine dance had been a foolish mistake back at home, but to try and step through it _here_ , and _now_ …

Leia feels her face getting hot. "Oh. We don't really need to—I mean—"

Luke leans a little bit closer. "You said yourself it was bound to be included tomorrow."

"I did, and it might be…" Leia kicks herself for ever digging this hole, then makes a decision. "All right. Let's see what you remember."

Her mouth goes dry as they step into the opening position and she leans back in his arms. He can joke all he wants about being scrawny, she can feel the strength in the arm supporting her back.

The music starts and Luke is better liar than she thought he was, because this— _this_ he's practiced. No, not practiced, she thinks, as he misses a step and throws off the count. But he's more familiar with the dance than he was. His eyes stay locked on hers and there's a fire in them she hasn't seen before. It's almost enough to make _her_ miss a step as their arms twist and bend together in an intricate pattern.

He catches her hand as she spins away and she can feel it again, the casual strength with which he pulls her back to him, their bodies colliding before she slides around him.

When the music stops, his breath is warm against her throat and one of them is trembling—it might be her. His arm is wrapped around her waist and the merest shifting pressure of his hand sends a sharp tingle through her. Slowly, so slowly, he eases her back to a full standing position, but doesn't let her go right away.

Their eyes meet. He's flushed and his eyes are dark and bright at the same time. She's sure she has that same pole-axed look on her face. There's a fire right there in the room with them, right in the tiny bit of space between their bodies. His lips are parted and all she can remember is the kiss by the statue earlier.

There's no audience here, but it doesn't matter. He lowers his mouth to hers and pulls her close. Leia can't stop the helpless little sound that escapes her. They're pressed so tight together, she's quickly aware of his arousal, which in turn pushes her own arousal front and center in her mind.

They _could_ , she realizes. There's a bed right behind her. They _could_. No one could stop them, no one could interrupt, no one would ever have to know. As their lips part and she feels the brush of his tongue for the first time, there is nothing in the universe she wants more. His hand at her waist dips a little lower, curling possessively on the curve of her hip.

They _could_ , but will they? His mouth leaves hers and starts to drag over her jawline, and her mind is made up. She will. They've been drawn together from the very start, the two of them, and it's inevitable that they would wind up here. They belong together; there is no other answer. As Luke's lips reach her neck, she whimpers softly.

Instantly, his hands and mouth are off her skin and he takes a step back. "Leia, I'm so sorry."

"What? No—"

"You asked me here because you thought I wouldn't take advantage of you and here I am—" Luke broke off and turned away from her, shoving his hair out of his face in a sharp motion.

"You didn't, I promise." She wants to go to him, kiss him again, get back to that loss of control again, but common sense has intruded too far. "Luke, please don't be upset. I'm not. I… I liked it." _I like_ you, she starts to add, but holds back. That won't help calm the situation.

Luke turns back around and there is shame written all over his face. "I would never do anything to hurt you, Leia. Never." He's so painfully earnest, the kind, determined boy she first met.

"I know you wouldn't. You haven't, I swear to you." If anything, she is hurting him, making him doubt the goodness that is as basic to who he is as his pretty eyes and sweet smile.

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure." Leia smiles, and is relieved to see Luke smile back, if only a little.

"It's getting late," he says. "You take the bed, I can sleep in the chair easy enough."

She wants to argue; the bed is easily large enough for both of them to sleep in it without touching, but right now… it still seems too fraught.

They take turns getting ready for bed. Leia doesn't miss the way Luke's eyes widen at the sight of her with her hair uncoiled and brushed free. She looks away while she braids it into the long braid she wears at night, trying not to pay attention to the soft clothes he's wearing for sleep.

She gets in the bed and he turns out the light, but she lies on her back staring up at the ceiling. Luke isn't faring much better. She can hear him across the room, shifting and sighing as he tries to get comfortable.

This is ridiculous. Leia sits up. "Neither one of us is going to get any sleep like this."

Luke stops moving around.

"Will you just come lie down? There's plenty of room. We're being silly." Without waiting to see if he does, she rolls over and lies down again. After a few minutes, she hears quiet footsteps across the room, and feels the bed shift as he gets in. Even though he's a good meter away, Leia is acutely conscious of Luke's every tiny movement. She falls asleep to the sound of his breathing.


	3. Chapter 3

The room is just turning gray with the early morning light when Luke wakes with a start. He's too warm and sometime in the night they've both kicked off the covers, but the covers aren't the reason he's warm. Sometime in the night, Leia has gone from curled up tightly on the far side of the bed to trying to occupy the same space that he's in.

He's still lying on his back, but Leia is sprawled on her stomach, one arm and one leg thrown over him. Even the heavy braid of her hair is draped across his chest, his fingers loosely wrapped around it. Her body is heavy and warm with sleep, and she's snoring faintly. He can't move without disturbing her, and truthfully, he's not even sure he wants to move. Ever.

Instead he turns his head just enough to look at her. Her face is half pressed into the pillow; he traces the curve of her cheek with his eyes. The temptation to follow that same line with his fingertips is overwhelming.

It's a different sort of intimacy from the night before. Luke closes his eyes and takes several deep breaths to push the memory of last night away. He was entirely out of line to kiss her like that, no matter how right it felt, no matter how good— _no_. Deep breaths. Suddenly he's hyper-aware of the pressure of her thigh against his, pinning him down, and what had been sweet just a moment before becomes a torment.

He _has_ to move. He has to. The longer he lies here the more difficult it will be to ignore his body's response, to fight the urge to turn into his side and pull her close, even just to hold her while she's asleep.

Leia's eyelids twitch and she mutters something. Luke closes his eyes and feigns sleep as he feels her start to stir. He hears her sharp intake of breath and her body goes tense against his, then relaxes. She should move away any second now, he's expecting it—but she doesn't. Is she studying him the way he studied her? Then she carefully draws her braid from his hand, and finally rolls away. Luke opens his eyes.

"Oh no, did I wake you?" Leia is sitting on the edge of the bed, unbraiding her hair so it spills in messy waves around her.

"No." He feigns a yawn, trying not to stare. The sun is beginning to stream through the windows and her hair catches the light as it moves over her back and shoulders. "I didn't realize it was so long."

"Huh?" She turns.

"Your hair."

"Oh." She stops brushing it, as if self-conscious. "I know it's impractical. I should cut it, but…" Leia shrugs. "It was a tradition. And my father liked it."

 _I like it_ , he doesn't say, even though he does, even though his fingers itch to touch it. He settles on, "I don't think it's impractical." Realizing he's still lying near her, he sits up, rubbing his eyes.

She just smiles. It's as if nothing awkward happened. Of course, she's a princess, she probably has experience smoothing over awkward situations. And dealing with overzealous suitors.

#

They get dressed and have breakfast brought to the room so they can plan strategy while they eat. Neither of them talk about how they woke up, although Leia can't stop thinking about it. She's just grateful she woke first, before he realized how she'd thrown herself at him during the night.

"This would feel a lot less dangerous if we could go in armed." Luke finishes eating first, no surprise, and stands, rubbing at his scalp in frustration.

"They'll be scanning everyone at the door. If our invitations don't pass muster, we'll have bigger things to worry about than trying to sneak a blaster in under my dress." Leia wrinkles her nose, eyeing said dress where it hangs, waiting for her. It is absolutely nothing she would have chosen for herself, and that's the idea. It's just the sort of thing a pampered darling with an infusion of new money, like Kalifa Dengar, would wear.

"I know." He sighs and flops gracelessly back into his chair. "The scanners aren't looking for a lightsaber though…"

Leia puts down her fork. "Please tell me you left it at the base. You _didn't_ bring it." The last thing they need is for someone to see _that_. A Jedi weapon would blow their cover faster than her standing on a table tonight and announcing her full name complete with all of her titles.

From the sheepish look on his face, she already knows what he's going to do before he does it. Sure enough, he lifts one side of his jacket, and there it is, tucked up high against his side where the jacket hides it. "Look, I know these scanners, Han told me all about them." He sits across from her again and leans forward earnestly. "What they're really scanning for are the Tibanna gas cartridges, and the specific power pack models blasters use. They should slip right over a lightsaber."

"You're gonna get us killed." Leia is never choosing an espionage partner based on their attractiveness again. But then his face falls and she feels as if she just kicked a baby nerf.

"I can leave it here, then. I just thought it would be safer—"

"No, if you're sure about the scanners…" She's rewarded with a little smile from him. If anyone knows how to sneak a weapon in somewhere, it's probably Han Solo, and Luke isn't wrong—going in armed would definitely be an advantage. One she hadn't dared hope for.

"Not completely sure," he admits, "but if you think it's worth the risk…"

"We'll try it."

She makes him go back to the _Corellian Dawn_ so she can get ready for the ball in peace. Once, getting ready for a ball required a small army of hairdressers and maids, but that feels like forever ago, and she does the best she can on her own. Leia wavers on what to do with her hair, and finally decides that wearing it down will further enhance her disguise. Not to mention, the dress she's supposed to wear is backless—wearing her hair down will make her feel a little less naked.

Curling and styling it takes forever, and by the time she's done, she has only a short time before Luke will be returning to the inn. Leia gets dressed and frowns critically into the mirror. The dress is a deep purple, and the only thing she really likes about it is a seashell motif that runs down the front of the long, full skirt. It has only the tiniest of cap sleeves in addition to the bare back. The effect, with her false red hair, long curls, and heavily lined eyes, is dramatic, to say the least.

Just as she's pulling on the matching purple gloves—they come to her elbow and give her a little more coverage—there's a knock at the door. "It's me," Luke says.

Her stomach quivers as she reaches the door and slowly opens it.

Whatever she's about to say dries up in her mouth. They stare at one another for a long minute. Leia hadn't had much input on their clothing for this whole affair, but she wouldn't change anything about what Luke is wearing. The pants and short jacket are the same dark olive; the color turns Luke's eyes to a startling shade of green. The front, collar, and cuffs of the jacket are trimmed with copper stitching and flashes of metal. The cut is almost military, but it's too flashy to be a uniform. He looks… older, more in command of himself. It's like getting a glimpse of who he'll be in five years.

She can't breathe. And the look on his face as he takes her in from head to toe—men don't look at her like that. They don't usually dare. He looks like a starving man staring at a feast, but there's more beneath it, something she won't let herself name.

"Can I come in?" he finally manages.

"Oh! Yes, sorry." Leia lets him in the room, following him with her eyes.

"You look—"

"—ridiculous," Leia finishes.

"I was going to say stunning." He smiles, then his eyes drop away from hers.

She spots it then: the fit of his collar isn't quite right. Without thinking, she walks toward him and reaches up to adjust it. As she fiddles with the trim on the high collar, she can feel the weight of his eyes on her face. "There. Now it's perfect." When she steps back, her movement is arrested by his hands on her elbows.

"Anything else I got wrong?" Luke's voice still has the usual lilt it has when he's teasing her, but the pitch has dropped by half an octave.

"No." She risks a glance up at his face. "You look—"

"Ridiculous?"

"Perfect." Leia eases her arms away from him and steps back before she winds up ruining the mission before they even begin. "We should go soon."

#

All the holos and coaching in the galaxy couldn't have prepared Luke for an actual Imperial ballroom. It was a royal ballroom once, but with the rise of the Empire, the Emperor had commandeered much of the royal holdings of his home planet. The main hall where they wait soars overhead with shades of green and gray marble everywhere Luke looks. Also everywhere Luke looks: stormtroopers. He stands arm in arm with Leia and tries to look bored instead of nervous.

Leia is drawing attention from everyone who glances in their direction. She stands, serenely beautiful at his side, occasionally leaning over to murmur something to him about the other guests. It's nearly impossible to pay attention to her words. He's had over an hour to get used to her hair and that dress, and he still can't look at her without his jaw trying to drop. Her hair is a thick, ringleted mass of more shades of red than he knew existed, and is just long and full enough to cover what he belatedly realized was a completely bare back. He's gotten so used to seeing her in white and tan and other earth tones that the rich purple is practically mouth-watering. It's a dress that manages to accent every single curve of her body, and when the other partygoers linger a little too long to look at her, he can feel his hackles rise with a possessive protectiveness that startles him.

She may not be his, but she's not theirs either.

"Would you relax," she murmurs, disguising her words with a laugh. "You look like you're waiting for a fight to break out."

"Sorry." Luke takes a deep breath and wills his shoulders to lower, his arms to loosen.

Finally they reach the security detail, and Luke hands over their invitations and identification idly, smiling down at Leia.

After an eternity, the ID reader beeps green, and they're waved through to the scanner. Luke's lightsaber sits beneath his jacket and he tries not to even think about it as they both pass through the scanner.

They pass that as well, and Luke feels a sense of tension leave him. _Looks like I owe you another one, Han_.

The ballroom glitters with humanoids of all shapes and sizes, all dressed to their utmost. Leia outshines them all. Nor is he the only one who thinks so. After their first dance—a Devronian waltz, so that's number one—a tall man with gleaming dark hair and an Imperial officer's uniform comes to request a dance, and Luke is left to study the layout of the ballroom.

At least, he tries. His eyes keep being drawn to the dance floor. Leia is dwarfed by her dance partner, who is graceful far beyond anything Luke has been able to manage. They glide around the floor effortlessly and Luke can't help but grind his teeth together. _Stop it, pay attention to the crowd_.

He dances the second Devronian waltz with a local woman, and it's terrible. He can't stop stepping on her feet, and keeps apologizing. As she walks away he hears her remark to her companion about what a shame it is that anyone would invite a Corellian clodhopper to such a prestigious event. Ah well, at least he convinced her he was Corellian.

Leia comes back to him and they sit out a dance to compare notes.

"The door we're supposed to get through is guarded," Luke says. "I haven't seen many people coming and going through it."

"We've got a bigger problem. I found out the reason for all the security." Leia scoots closer and takes his hand with a big, overdone smile, then murmurs, "The Queen of Naboo is supposed to be attending later. Hopefully we can get out of here before she arrives, or our job just got a lot harder."

"One more waltz," Luke reminds her.

"Yes, but we don't know when they'll play it." Leia rises to her feet and offers him her hand. "Come on, let's go see what people are gossiping about at the punchbowl."

Luke spots the woman he danced with talking to one of the guards. He almost convinces himself that it has nothing to do with him, when the woman looks in his direction. "We may have trouble." He tilts his head toward the guard in question. "I think I might have blown my cover."

"It was _one dance_! What could you possibly have done in one dance?"

The third Devronian waltz starts playing. And they still haven't figured out how to get past the guards at the door.

Leia has her exasperated face on. "All right. We've got about five minutes to figure out how to get past the guards, when they're probably already keeping an eye on us."

"Can we create a distraction?"

"Someone's gonna have to."

Luke keeps waiting for the guards to descend on them and drag them away. He can't figure out what he did wrong—the woman seemed to buy his cover. With some prodding from Leia, he manages to keep his happy-to-be-here face on as the third waltz winds down.

The music for the next dance is called. Partners—much fewer than for other dances—go out onto the floor and assume the starting position for the Twi'lek vine dance. Luke and Leia exchange glances and she shrugs. "Told you they'd probably play it."

Her last dance partner—the tall, good-looking one, the _Imperial_ —approaches them.

"Oh no," Luke groans.

"Wait, this will work. You wanted a distraction."

"What _kind_ of distraction?" He doesn't like the glint in her eye, not at all.

Leia kisses him on the cheek. "The guards aren't going to pay attention to single thing you're doing, I promise."

"But our contact—they wanted to speak to you, not to me!"

"Convince them. Luke, this is our only chance."

The tall man reaches them, and Leia consents to join him in the dance. It's all Luke can do to keep smiling. When the music starts, he knows that's his cue to start moving, but he immediately understands what Leia meant about causing a distraction. Once she starts dancing, it's as if there's a spotlight on her. As far away as he is, he can feel the connection between her and her partner and it burns through him. She went easy on him—she's not going easy now.

 _Focus_ , he growled to himself. He inches his way toward the door. Sure enough, there's a stir going through the ballroom now, and everyone not on the dance floor is moving closer to watch. Including the guards, who step several meters away from their post. While they're busy going up on their toes to see whatever it is Leia and her partner are doing on the dance floor, Luke slips through the door behind them.

Expecting to be caught any minute, he darts down the empty hallway, and finds the third corridor. There are two guards standing and talking. They don't seem to be guarding anything, just… standing. Luke slips his hand beneath his jacket, resting it against the hilt of his lightsaber.

"RJ-2098 gets bored and decides he's spotted some rebels and now the rest of us are going to pull sentry duty all night," one of the stormtroopers complains.

 _Oh no_. Luke's first instinct is to run back to the ballroom, grab the princess and run. How did he blow his cover that badly? Like Leia said, it was _one dance_.

"You know how he is, overreacts to everything. Some old hag thinks she saw a lightsaber so he's got us on high alert."

Oh. That was how. She must have seen it while they were dancing. _Blast_. Well there was nothing for it now.

"Come on, let's finish up. We've still got the south corridor to go through."

"I hate palace duty."

They head off, still complaining to each other. Luke gives a sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping. The urge to run is still strong, but he's so close to their contact.

 _This is all for nothing if they won't talk to me._

Luke hurries down the hall to the last door on the left. Should he knock? He tries the door, and it opens into a small sitting room. A man in a uniform Luke doesn't recognize instantly draws a blaster and stands in front of a sitting young woman.

"Who are you?" the man demands.

"I was supposed to meet someone here." Luke slowly raises his hands and keeps them up.

The woman—no, a girl, really, she's younger than Luke—peers at him around her guard. "You don't look like a princess."

Despite everything, Luke laughs. "You don't look like the person I was expecting to meet either." Still, there's something about her. Her clothes are simple but richer than he's ever seen, and she's remarkably self-possessed.

The girl studies him, and he has the uneasy sensation of being weighed and considered. She touches the guard's arm and he reluctantly lowers the blaster and steps aside so she can stand up. "What's your name?" she asks, then holds up her hand to forestall his answer. "Your real name, please."

He debates giving her a false name anyway, but something in her—in this whole situation really—tells him he can trust her. It's not subtle; he can feel the Force nudging him along this path. "I'm Luke Skywalker."

Her eyes widen. " _You're_ him? You're younger than I imagined."

"I know the feeling. So now you have an advantage over me."

"You can call me Sosha." She doesn't say that's her name, but he lets it go. "Where's the princess?"

Luke makes a face. "We needed a distraction to get back here. She's the distraction."

"Neither of you are very good at being undercover, are you?" The quirk of her mouth makes her seem much older than her years. "All right." She draws her hand from the sleeve of her robes and extends a datachip to him. "This is everything I've been able to gather on the Empire. The Palpatine family has always underestimated their enemies. I think you'll find that the Emperor has been quite careless in his planning."

"Thank you, Sosha." Luke tucks away the chip.

"Thank me by getting off Naboo in one piece," she says. "You and Princess Leia should go, quickly."

Luke tips her a salute and turns to go.

"And Luke?"

He turns back.

Sosha grins at him. "May the Force be with you."

He smiles and ducks out.

#

After the music ends, Leia finds herself surrounded by admirers clamoring for her attention. Her partner sticks close to her elbow, and his hand drifts possessively to her back. She itches to shrug away from his hand, but keeps her simpering smile on. When he leans to whisper something to her, she's fully prepared to hear a proposition of some sort and gets ready to shoot him down.

It's not a proposition. "The hair was a nice touch, but you're more recognizable than you know, Princess."

 _Damn!_ Where is Luke? He should be back by now. She looks up at her partner and flutters her lashes. "You're awfully sweet, but my daddy's the only one who ever called me 'princess'."

Luke is on the edge of the dance floor and she goes up on her toes to wave to him. He starts weaving through the crowd.

"Thank you for the dance," she says, "but that's my husband. He gets a little jealous sometimes." She tries to walk away, but the man has a grip on her elbow. It's not a friendly grip.

"Of course you wouldn't know who I am," the man said. "Just another lost Alderaanian. But I would know my Princess anywhere."

"I don't know what you're talking about." She tries to tug her arm away with a little more force.

"I saw you once, at another Imperial ball, years ago on Coruscant. Before you turned traitor." He shakes his head. "Your father would have been so disappointed in his princess."

" _Traitor?_ " Leia can see Luke getting closer, but she's past caring for the moment. "You stand there, wearing _that_ "—she flicks a finger at his uniform—"after what the Empire did to Alderaan, and talk to me about being a traitor?"

Before he can answer, Luke slides over, wearing an easy smile but there's a hint of warning in his eyes. "Kalifa, you promised me the next dance."

Leia jerks her arm away from the Alderaanian. "My _father_ ," she spits at him, "died because of cowards like you."

Luke's expression shifts from a smile to one of alarm. The Alderaanian is reaching for his comlink. Leia has only a split second to act. She hauls off and slaps the Imperial across the face with all the strength she can and shouts, "How _dare_ you?" Heads turn their way. "And with my husband standing right here!" She takes Luke's arm and starts pulling him away. "Let's go. I'm ready to go home."

They shove their way through the now-staring crowd.

"What is going on?" Luke demands. "Who was that?"

"Shut up and keep walking. We have to get out of here."

They're halfway to the exit when a voice behind them commands, "Halt!"

They exchange glances. " _Run_ ," Leia says.


	4. Chapter 4

Luke grabs Leia's hand and they start to run, pushing and shoving their way through the ballroom at first, until the crowd parts before them. The stormtroopers are starting to close in, and a few of them have their rifles unshouldered.

"They won't fire into the crowd, will they? Surely not here." Luke glances back at Leia.

" _Maybe_ not here," Leia agrees. "Might hit someone important. But once we're out of the crowd…"

"Yeah." Luke draws out his lightsaber and keeps it ready to ignite in his hand. He's by no means an expert, but at worst he can probably deflect a few blaster shots, if he needs to.

"Get ready."

They break through the crowd and into the reception hall where they entered. There are troopers converging on the doors, but if the two of them are fast enough they just might make it.

They almost do. Three troopers get to the door first, rifles raised. Luke steps in front of Leia and ignites his lightsaber, managing to slash two of the rifles into slag before the troopers know what's happening. The third drops back in time to avoid losing an arm, giving Leia and Luke the chance to run.

The streets are quiet at this time of night, and there's no more crowd to disappear into. And Leia was right: as soon as they're out in the open, the stormtroopers start firing. Leia dives for cover and Luke wheels to face them. The first time he gets lucky, and the deflected shot hits one of the stormtroopers. After a few tries, he learns how to make that happen on purpose, and the fire coming their way slows down.

Even in evening dress, they're faster than the stormtroopers, and they buy time by cutting through side streets. "How long before they trace us as the Dengars?" Luke asks, as they both stop for a quick rest.

"Maybe an hour. We've got to get back to the _Dawn_ and get off Naboo before they do." She smiles faintly, and even after their mad dash, she still looks beautiful. "Hope you didn't leave anything vital at the inn."

"Nah, I have everything I need." He takes her hand, and they're off again.

The spaceport is as busy as spaceports always are, and two humans in formalwear barely merit a second glance—at first.

"I don't like this." Leia hurries along at his side. "We stick out too much."

"We're almost to the _Dawn_. There she is."

Just as Leia goes up the ramp, they hear another voice yell, "Stop! You there!"

"I knew that was too easy." Leia hauls Luke up the ramp after her. "Please tell me this ship has weapons."

Luke rushes past her for the cockpit, trying to remember. "Yeah—Yeah, there's an aft gun. Starboard side. You know how to use it?"

"I'll learn! Get us out of here!"

For all its advantages, the _Corellian Dawn_ wasn't designed for a speedy departure. Luke puts up the shields and waits for the engines to finish cycling.

"What are you waiting for?" Leia's on the comms.

"It's gonna take a minute. You got that gun figured out yet?"

The sound of an explosion rips through the spaceport and a newly arrived Imperial speeder vanishes in a ball of flame.

"Yes," Leia says.

Luke grins in spite of himself. "Nice shot."

"How much longer?"

"Forty-five seconds, give or take. Just keep them away from us." He speeds through the rest of his checklist, hoping he doesn't miss anything vital. As soon as they take off, they're bound to wind up with some pursuit. He'll find out just how maneuverable this old girl is.

He hears more shots fired, and sees the splash of laser bolts against the _Dawn's_ shields. The shields are holding for now, but the Imperials are rolling out an ion cannon. "Come on…" Luke mutters.

 _Finally_ the board goes green and he fires up the thrusters. "Hang on, Leia." Without clearance or a flight path, this could get bumpy.

They soar out of the hangar, and immediately Luke has to dodge left to avoid an incoming shuttle. The ion cannon gets off a shot that barely misses them, so he pushes the _Dawn's_ engines to get them more altitude.

A squadron of TIEs stream from the port. It's too many for them to handle with their one gun. Far too many. As soon as the _Dawn_ leaves the atmosphere Luke is punching coordinates into the hyperdrive. If he can just dodge them until they can make the jump…

"Luke? Luke, I can't keep track of them all, there's too many!" Leia's voice has that edge it gets when she's on the line between panic and anger.

"I know, just do what you can. We'll be ready to make the jump in"—he looks at the console—"two minutes."

"You're using the scatter protocol, right?" She sounds a little more in control, and he hears her blasting away at the TIEs.

"Just programmed it in." Scatter protocol means the trip home will take a little while longer, but the random hyperspace jumps will shake off any tails.

The TIEs catch up to them and try to box the _Dawn_ in. Luke puts the ship into a sharp dive and watches two more of the ships vanish from his radar as they collide. A third goes from one of Leia's shots. There are still too many.

It's the longest two minutes of Luke's life. He takes the _Dawn_ through corkscrews, dodging this way and that, but for all his efforts, the rear quarter shield is failing, and with all his maneuvers, Leia's having a hard time getting a good shot. Finally, the computer beeps.

"Making the jump," he tells Leia, and the stars lengthen and they're in the tunnel. With three hours until their first hop, he slumps back in the pilot's chair for a minute to catch his breath.

He hears Leia's footsteps running toward the cockpit and spins around to stand in time to catch her. It's become almost a ritual after any fight, and it's one of the best things about surviving combat. They embrace for long minutes, her face against his shoulder, his buried in her hair.

When she pulls away, she's grinning at him. "You could've let me get a few more shots in. I need the practice."

Luke laughs. "How about we save the practice for when the odds are a little more in our favor?"

That moment happens again—he should be used to it by now—where they fall quiet, just looking at each other. "I'm sorry I—"

At the same time she says, "I shouldn't have—"

"You first."

"I shouldn't have lost my temper at that officer." Leia looks sheepish. "But just… the idea that anyone from Alderaan could willingly serve the Empire…"

"I'm surprised you didn't hit him sooner." Luke realizes that they're still standing with their arms around each other, and it seems completely natural.

"I'm surprised _you_ didn't hit him. Didn't know you were the jealous type."

Luke looks away, biting his lip. "Don't suppose you'd believe me if I told you it was part of the act?" He starts to pull away from her, but she doesn't let him.

"Was it? Part of the act?" Out of the corner of his eye, he can see that she's watching him intently.

He can't lie to her. He can't lie to anybody, really, this whole trip has proved that but—he especially can't lie to her. "I know it's not my place. I'm sorry."

"What if it was?" Her voice is so soft that at first he thinks he's hearing things. He meets her eyes, and she says again, "What if it _was_ your place?"

His heart feels as if it might burst through his rib cage. "You can't—I mean—we can't—" He stops and takes a breath, trying to center his thoughts. "You're a princess and I'm—"

"A hero," she says, and reaches up to touch his cheek. A smile flickers on her face. " _My_ hero."

"Now you're making fun of me."

"I swear I'm not." Her eyes, smudged with her makeup after their mad dash across Theed, are wide and sincere.

"But—"

Before he can say anything else, she kisses him. It's somewhere between the surprised kiss at the statue and the overwhelmed heat of the kiss in their room, and ending it is one of the hardest things he's ever done. "Leia, I can't do this—" He breaks off when she laughs at him.

"Do you remember what I said on the way here?"

"Clearly." He takes the opportunity to step away from her. It's easier to think if she's not so close to him. "You said you asked me to come along because you knew I wouldn't try to take advantage of you." He takes another deep breath, shoving his hair out of his face. "And I've been doing just that."

"It's not taking advantage if I'm flinging myself at you. Honestly, Luke, my pride's getting a little bruised here." Leia folds her arms and leans against the pilot's chair. "What I also said was, I knew we could stay focused on the mission _until it was over_." She gestures at the cockpit, at the hyperspace tunnel beyond. "The mission is over. We did it."

"So you're saying…"

She takes a step toward him then another. "I'm saying… I want you to kiss me. I _like_ it when you kiss me."

"Right now?" His brain feels too slow to keep up with what's happening.

"You got anything better to do for the next few hours?" She's smiling at him the way she does when she's about to get her way. _A few hours_ , the thought makes his knees wobble.

Luke shakes his head mutely and Leia steps into his arms again. It feels like it takes an hour for their lips to meet again, hesitant start-stop movements toward one another until they finally meet in the space between them. Kissing as a conscious decision instead of an act of instinct is different, a little more awkward at first. Leia pushes him down into the pilot's chair and then settles in his lap, the fullness of her skirt spilling around her. This is much better, this was a good idea. Luke reaches up and cups her cheek with one hand, guiding their mouths back together. His other hand winds up spread across her back, half-tangled in the wild red curls of her hair, half-warm against her bare skin.

She groans and finally he doesn't take it as a sign that he should stop, instead he slides the hand on her cheek to the nape of her neck. Her hands fist in his jacket, pulling him as tight against her as possible. Her mouth is everything he ever dreamed of, but he needs more. He licks the seam of her lips and she opens for him with a hitch in her breathing. As soon as her tongue slides against his, he shudders, his hand tightening on her back. Suddenly he needs to feel more of her skin, and burrows that hand beneath her hair until he finds it, warm and soft and smooth. He traces the curve of her spine while she nips at his lower lip, and he lets himself think for the first time, to wonder, where the boundaries are between them, or if there are any.

The back of the gown plunges alarmingly low, and he runs his fingers all the way down until he meets fabric. Leia arches against him, her mouth leaving his, and there's new temptation in front of him. He pulls her to him and presses a kiss to her neck while his fingertips trace along the edge of her dress. There's the bitter taste of perfume, but her pulse is beneath his tongue. He can feel how alive she is, and there's an answering throb in his groin. It only gets worse when she tangles her fingers in his hair and holds him there, her breath a tiny whimper that makes his toes curl.

Luke's entire body buzzes with the awareness of her; he's dizzy with the feel of her beneath his hands and mouth, the way she yields. Leia isn't the first girl he's ever kissed, of course not, but it's the first time that the possibility of _more_ has been right there, unspoken in the way her cheek rubs against his hair, the way she's squirming in his lap. He's not the only one who wants, and realizing that it's his kiss and his touch causing that want makes his head spin.

Newly bold, he trails his fingers back up her body, following the line of her gown, knowing exactly where it curves toward the front, exactly where the softness of her breast starts. At the last minute he loses his nerve, and his hand stops. He refocuses his attention on her neck, kissing up her jawline. He pauses only at the low breath of a whisper in his ear:

"Please don't stop."

This time the whimper is from his own throat. Leia pulls back enough to check on him, her dark, dark eyes searching his face.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

Her answering kiss is gentle but firm. "I don't want to stop at all. Not until you do."

He's certain then that she's done this before, and rather than a source of jealousy, it's almost a relief. But… "Leia… I've never…"

Leia's smile is the sweetest, softest expression he's ever seen on her face, and it threatens to tear his heart open. She brushes his hair back from his eyes and leans in to kiss him again, lingeringly. "I know. You don't have to now, either."

His face is on fire, his body is on fire, but Luke is nothing if not brave. "I want to." He lifts his chin and looks her in the eye. "I've wanted to since the first time we danced."

At first he thinks he's said the wrong thing, because Leia slips from his lap, but she reaches for his hand. "I don't think the captain's chair is the right place for this, do you?"

Luke follows her on legs made of rubber, only half-believing this is happening, that this is going to happen. It gets a little more real when they get to her cabin, and she leads him in. It's spacious enough, and the bunk is almost a real bed, not a tiny ship's berth. He swallows, suddenly nervous, until Leia pulls him down for a kiss, her hands finding the hidden fasteners on his jacket and working them open. He clings to her upper arms until she pushes his jacket away to reveal the pale linen shirt beneath.

"You should see if they'll let you keep the suit." She grins up at him. "It's very dashing on you."

He rolls his eyes, but it's impossible not to smile back at her. "Just think of all the places I could wear it. Mission briefings, scouting trips—"

"—my bedroom."

For a second it feels like his heart stops dead in his chest. "Might be worth keeping it then," he manages.

"Mm-hm." Leia toys with the buttons on his shirt, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

"Does that mean you get to keep the dress?"

She laughs. "Oh no. I'm hoping they'll let me burn the damn thing."

"No! It's beautiful."

"It's a horror, and once it comes off, I'm not putting it back on."

He covers her hands with his and his voice comes out in almost a rasp. "In that case, I can't decide if I should enjoy it now while I can or set you free."

"Both." Leia's arms go around his neck and they're kissing again, fiercer than before, the intent clear. She lets go of him long enough to start pulling at his shirt and he has a moment to wish he even knew where to begin helping her out of that dress. But then she's running her hands across his bare chest and his shirt is on the floor.

Something takes over in him and he needs to feel her skin against his. They kiss leaning towards each other, each trying to finish undressing without moving apart. It's only when he hears the rustle of her dress falling to the floor that he opens his eyes and steps back.

Leia is luminous; she glows. Luke can't stop staring at the line of her shoulders, the curve of her breasts, which are more perfect than he'd dared to imagine—when he'd even let his mind get that far. The swell of her hips make his hands itch to touch her, and her smile promises it will be worth his while.

"Off," she demands, nodding at his pants.

It takes him longer than it should to shed them, because he can't stop stealing glances at her as she turns down the covers on the berth. He nearly stumbles over his own feet when she crawls in, lying on her side and watching him. Finally he manages to untangle everything and fights his self-consciousness.

Leia's expression is everything. Her eyes move over his body and she looks a little like a predator who's just spotted dinner. When she crooks a finger at him, he is helpless to do anything but go to her.

#

Leia has never felt such a mix of overwhelmed affection and lust before. She'd expected that he'd be beautiful, but she didn't expect that he was still gangly as a colt and almost as skittish. It's endearing and appealing and she can't decide if she wants to protect him or eat him with a spoon.

When he comes to her, his body burns against hers, and as much as she wants to make his first time last, she's burning too. The way his fingers had skated over her back, the way his tongue had found the pulse point on her neck—she's already soaking wet and aching. He's hard against her thigh and she threads her fingers into his hair, to keep her hands from drifting down to touch him just yet. If she touches him now, this will be over too fast for both of them. Their foreheads press together; they exchange short kisses while their eyes stay fixed on each other's.

His hands are drawn up the dip of her waist, palms and fingers spread wide as if he can touch everywhere at once. Her patience runs out, and she covers one of his hands with her own and pulls it up to her breast. His gasp is lovely; the weight of his hand is lovelier.

His touch is almost too gentle at first, too reverent. She trails one hand down his chest, acutely aware of how much he's filled out in the year that she's known him. Training and just getting farther from adolescence have broadened his shoulders and chest. She distracts him with a longer kiss while her fingers tweak one of his nipples. His entire body jerks in response, but gratifyingly, he takes the hint and stops being quite so gentle. Luke's hands still bear the calluses of a farmboy, since toughened by time spent fighting, working on ships. Their roughness against her skin is impossibly right.

Leia rolls onto her back in an invitation for him to explore and oh, he does. His mouth soon follows his hands, tender kisses down the slope of her breasts, the faintest of licks on the tips of her nipples. He's teasing her, he has to be, and she captures his head in her hands to pull him in tighter, arching her back as he finally takes one of her nipples into his mouth. She feels the tug all the way down to her gut and twines her legs with his to get closer still.

His hand has settled against her hip, just pausing there. She tries to will it to move lower, letting her thighs fall apart to make the invitation clear. Finally, Luke inches his hand closer when he moves back up to kiss her again. His tongue teases into her mouth as his fingers tickle over the curls between her legs, making her arch up against him for more.

Leia has seen the strength in those hands, the dexterity; she's fantasized about this more times than she'd like to admit. He stops kissing her to watch her face as his fingers part her lips, and her heart gives a lurch when she realizes he's studying her reactions, learning her body. He learns quickly, and before long she's murmuring his name like a prayer, burying her face against his shoulder while her hips rock against his hand. His breath is ragged in her ear as if he's the one close to climax.

Her need is too great to wait anymore. Leia reaches between them and curls her fingers up the length of him, gratified by the way he whimpers.

"Leia—"

"Are you ready?"

He barely has the breath to say yes, but she hears him anyway. She guides him to a kneeling position between her thighs. His face—the expression she sees there takes her breath away: the serious little crease in his brow, the way his eyes lock onto her face as if he'll never look at anything else again.

Leia pulls him down to her and slowly, slowly he slides into her. They gasp in unison then laugh their way into a kiss until he's fully hers. She was already so close to coming, once he starts to move it pushes her toward the edge again.

No matter how slowly they move, everything happens fast. The sudden, sharp spike of her orgasm catches her off-guard and she writhes beneath him, pressing her face against his arm to stifle her cry. He gasps her name just a second after, his entire body trembling violently.

Luke tries to roll off her, but she pulls him down into her arms. He nuzzles at her ear, then her cheek before drawing back to look at her. She knows what he's about to say before he even opens his mouth, and she's not ready to hear it yet.

"Leia, I—"

"Shh." She presses a finger to his lips and follows it with a kiss. They roll to their sides again and lie there, arms and legs intertwined. The words he didn't say still radiate off him like heat, and it's not that she doesn't feel the same way—she's almost positive she does, she has no other word for this feeling—it's just… things are so uncertain. All she can do is show him, even if she can't say it.

#

Scatter protocol takes them a total of ten jumps to get back home, stretching a thirty-six hour trip to over forty-eight. Luke would stretch it out even longer if he could, but their supplies and fuel would run out long before he got tired of the quiet oasis the _Corellian Dawn_ has become.

They don't spend the entire time in bed, although they keep winding up back there. But between those times, they talk, endlessly. Their one attempt to share the refresher ends in disaster, but at least Leia's hair is back to its normal color. She keeps trying to put it back up, and Luke keeps pulling out the pins to let it down. Leia gives up after a giggling chase through the ship that ends with him threatening to throw the pins out the airlock. He could spend hours losing himself in her hair, touching it, brushing it, savoring the way it drags against his body when she's on top of him.

They try dancing again, and they're so aware of one another now it's like they communicate without words. Of course, dancing winds up with them sprawled on the floor of the _Dawn's_ lounge, naked and shivering cold, but sated.

It's morning, ship-time, and they're due to get home in a few hours. They lie curled up in the berth one last time, Luke wrapped around Leia from behind, his chin on her shoulder. He finally asks the question he's been dreading for the past day and a half. "What happens when we get back?"

"We'll hand over the chip and pray it's got something we can use on it." Her voice is warm and half asleep.

He kisses her shoulder. "I still can't believe that was the _queen_. I wish I'd known." Leia had laughed at him for ages when she realized who their contact had been.

"She didn't want you to know. You did fine." She yawns and burrows her face into the pillow.

"That wasn't what I meant though." He slides his arm beneath hers and wraps it around her waist. "With… us, I mean." Luke is giving her an out, a chance to say _thanks this was fun, but…_

Regardless of how he thinks she might feel, and regardless of how he _knows_ he feels, he's seen her reluctance to talk about her feelings, and there are so many things about her life as the Last Princess of Alderaan that he can never understand. So he gives her an out.

Leia turns over in his arms to face him, and studies his face for a long, searching moment. "You really would let me go if I asked you to, wouldn't you."

"What else could I do?" He fights to keep any trace of misery out of his voice, although her words make something ache in his chest.

"The fact that you can say that, and mean it?" Leia cups his cheek in her hand. "That's why I don't ever want to let you go."

"I don't—I don't want to let you go either." The ache dissolves, and he kisses her to chase away the last remnants. "I won't, not until you tell me to."

He's not utterly naive, not anymore. They're still fighting a war and the odds are against them. She's still a princess and—despite her words—he's still a nobody. The future is a vast unknown in front of them. But she doesn't want to let him go, and that's enough for now.

It's more than enough. It's everything.


End file.
